


Slice of Heaven

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, M/M, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Pizza Man Patrick, There's A Tag For That, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: “Will this be for delivery or pickup?”“Um. Delivery, please.”Patrick did his best not to sigh, glancing at the clock. It was getting late, only 5 minutes before they officially stopped taking delivery orders for the night. “Sure. What can I get you?”There was a sniffle on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a throat being cleared. “A large pepperoni and extra cheese. And, um. Some garlic knots I guess.”“Good choice. Can I get a name for the order? And will this be cash or credit?”Another sniffle. “It’s um. David. David Rose. And I have cash.”Or, Patrick is a pizza delivery guy. David is his favorite customer.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 55
Kudos: 249





	Slice of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t remember how exactly this one came about but I know it’s another result of my twitter-to-fic pipeline, and I’ve been tinkering with it for months. Finally just wanted to get it finished, so here it is. 
> 
> Incredibly stupid, unbeta’d and unedited, any mistakes are my own.

“Thanks for calling Slice of Heaven, how can I help you?” 

“I’d like to place an order?” The statement came out like a question, and Patrick felt himself suppressing a smile. 

“Okay, sure. Will this be for delivery or pickup?” 

“Um. Delivery, please.” 

Patrick did his best not to sigh, glancing at the clock. It was getting late, only 5 minutes before they officially stopped taking delivery orders for the night. “Sure. What can I get you?” 

There was a sniffle on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a throat being cleared. “A large pepperoni and extra cheese. And, um. Some garlic knots I guess.” 

“Good choice. Can I get a name for the order? And will this be cash or credit?” 

Another sniffle. “It’s um. David. David Rose. And I have cash.”

* * *

Patrick volunteered to take the delivery since it was on his way home. The address turned out to be a set of swanky high-rise condos, and he felt self-conscious about leaving dirt from his shoes and the smell of pizza grease in his wake as he crossed the glittering marble floors of the lobby to the elevators. After a smooth, nearly silent elevator ride, Patrick found himself knocking on the door to unit B13. 

A moment later the door swung open, revealing someone who was, quite frankly, gorgeous. Even though he looked miserable- his eyes were rimmed in red, his facial hair too long to be a 5 o’clock shadow but not long enough to be intentional, and he had an oversized hoodie on, the sleeves pulled tight over his hands. His posture was defensive, and he eyed Patrick warily. But still, Patrick thought he was beautiful. His large, dark eyes were framed by a set of expressive brows, and a wave of dark hair crested back from his forehead. He was taller than Patrick, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped and had long, long legs that were encased in soft-looking joggers. Patrick stared for probably a second too long as the stranger looked at him, then at the box of pizza, clearing his throat, brows raised expectantly. 

“Large pepperoni, extra cheese, and an order of garlic knots for David Rose?” Patrick asked softly, coming back to himself. 

The man- David, presumably- nodded as he pulled a wallet from somewhere on his person, peeling off a handful of bills. “Keep the change,” he muttered, tucking his wallet under his arm and taking the food containers from Patrick. 

Patrick glanced down at the stack of bills he was given, quickly making calculations. “Um, are you sure? This is a 120% tip.” 

“Oh, is it?” David shrugged dismissively, already halfway through pulling the door closed between them. “Whatever.” 

“Oh. Well thank you.” 

David nodded distractedly, and was clearly eager to retreat to the peace and quiet of his apartment. But something about him was pulling at Patrick, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to gently prevent the door from closing. David shot him an alarmed look, and Patrick took a half-step back. 

“Sorry, I just. Are you like...Okay? You seem upset.” 

David regarded him for a moment, his eyes wide and mouth open slightly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “Men are assholes. I should be used to it by now.” 

“Ah,” Patrick grimaced, attempting sympathetic levity. “Well in that case, you should have ordered the Broken Heart special. Large pizza, garlic knots,  _ and  _ a deep dish cookie.” 

The slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of the handsome stranger’s mouth, and something in Patrick’s chest fluttered. That smile, small as it was, felt like a victory. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time, then,” David murmured, and Patrick felt himself blush, feeling exposed as David’s eyes did a full sweep of his body. “Have a good night, Patrick.” David stepped back then, closing the door between them, leaving Patrick feeling winded and somewhat taken aback until he remembered the name tag pinned onto his uniform shirt. 

* * *

Two days later, Patrick was taking orders again when he answered the phone to hear a familiar-sounding voice on the other end. 

This time, David ordered a small pepperoni and pineapple, a side salad, and garlic knots. 

“It’ll be about half an hour,” Patrick found himself smiling as he hung up the phone, adding a free deep-dish cookie to the order. 

“I can take it,” Jake offered, looking over Patrick’s shoulder as he put in the order. “I have another delivery on Lakeview anyways.” 

“No, no,” Patrick said hurriedly, earning himself a strange look from Jake. “I mean- I’ll do it. It’s on my way home.” 

Jake shrugged, unbothered as always. “Whatever.” 

Anticipation thrummed in Patrick’s chest as he once again took the quiet elevator up to David’s apartment. He hoped the cookie wasn’t too much, or too forward, or too obvious. It had been so long since Patrick had met someone who made him feel so flustered; his first week working with Jake had been a comedy of errors thanks to Jake’s shameless flirting and Patrick’s fumbled attempts at reciprocating, but their tryst had fizzled out quickly. Patrick was a committed relationship type of guy and Jake, well. He wasn’t. 

Patrick stepped in front of David’s door, but before he could knock, it swung open. 

“Were you looking out the peephole  _ waiting  _ for me?” Patrick asked with a laugh. 

“I’m very hungry,” David said defensively, his entire body shrugging away the gentle needling. Patrick couldn’t help but let his gaze do a full-body sweep as he handed off the stack of containers to David. 

He looked slightly more put-together than he had last time; his stubble was more artfully maintained, his sweater more form-fitting. There was a sliver of olive skin at the ankle exposed by his cropped joggers, and his feet were tucked into a pair of black Ugg slippers. 

“Wait, I think you brought me the wrong order,” Patrick refocused his gaze on David’s face as David lifted the lid of the smallest container. “I didn’t order a cookie.” 

Patrick shook his head as David regarded him, a puzzled expression on his face. “No, I know, it’s uh- our weekly special,” he said quickly, feeling his face flush from the lie. “Free cookie with any delivery.” 

“Oh. Well thank you.” David smirked, as if he wasn’t quite buying Patrick’s story, but accepted the cookie anyway.

Patrick shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to keep the grin off his own face. “You’re problem,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. David’s eyebrows furrowed, and Patrick felt his face burn with embarrassment when he realized what he’d just said. “Wait. No. I meant you’re  _ welcome _ . And  _ no  _ problem.” 

David just nodded, clearly amused, as he leaned against the doorframe. “Mmhmm. Okay.” 

“Anyway,” Patrick felt like his voice was too loud, suddenly, and he couldn’t get away fast enough. “I should- leave. I’m leaving. Goodnight, David.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the elevator, hearing the laughter in David’s voice as he called out “goodnight, Patrick!”

* * *

Patrick was certain he’d never be able to show his face in front of David ever again, and began to hope he’d never have to deliver to him again. But by some miracle, David didn’t seem too put-off by Patrick’s sudden rash of foot-in-mouth disease, and he called for a delivery again two days later.

Fearing the worst as he knocked on David’s door for the third time, he was pleasantly surprised that David had either forgotten what an idiot Patrick was, or was willing to look past it. Patrick walked back to his car 10 minutes later with a new spring in his step, a hefty tip in his pocket, and the heady feeling one gets after being shamelessly flirted with. 

David quickly became a regular Slice of Heaven customer, and the long hours Patrick was putting in over the summer to help pay for his classes meant getting to see David at least once a week. 

The pizza always changed- sometimes it was pepperoni, or meat lovers, or barbecue chicken. Occasionally David would add an order of wings or a salad or a deep-dish cookie. But the garlic knots were so consistent that Patrick would scribble it down onto the order pad as soon as David’s number came up on the phone. 

“Third time this week. You’re one of our best customers.” Patrick teased one night, forgoing his usual corporate-approved telephone greeting.

“Yes, well,” David’s voice crackled on the other end of the line. “Don’t get used to it. I just signed up for a cooking class so you should be seeing a lot less of me from now on.”

“That’s a shame.” The words left Patrick’s mouth unbidden, surprising himself. Judging by David’s silence, it had surprised him, too. 

Patrick cleared his throat after a moment. “Anyway. What can I get you?”

* * *

An hour later, Patrick knocked on David’s door, laden with a large Supreme, a deep dish cookie, an order of garlic knots, and a two-liter soda. It was a lot of food, even by David’s standards, but Patrick was too eager to see David again, even after his misstep on the phone earlier, to really think about the implications of that. It had lit a fire under him, knowing David might not be ordering pizza as often from now on, and Patrick had scrawled his cell number at the bottom of the receipt tape.  _ Call me?,  _ he’d written, like it was 1995 and he was living inside of a cheesy romcom. He hoped David liked romcoms. He hoped David would call. 

His hopes were dashed, however, when the door swung open to reveal, not David, but a young woman. She had long, dark hair and pretty, elfin features. 

“Uh,” Patrick stepped back to double check the unit number on the door. “I have a delivery for David, but-“ 

“Oh, you’re in the right place,” the woman waved a hand impatiently. “He’s just finishing up in the shower so he told me to grab the food.” 

A lick of jealousy, hot and ugly-feeling, burned at the back of Patrick’s throat and low in his belly. The woman was dressed for bed, loose flannel pajama bottoms paired with a tanktop and hoodie. Apparently, David had an overnight guest. Patrick felt like an idiot. 

“Is that the pizza?” Patrick glanced up at the sound of a familiar voice coming from further inside the apartment. David had crossed into his line of sight for just a second, a towel wrapped low across his hips and another around his hair. 

“No, it’s my dealer,” the woman yelled back, scrawling a signature onto the receipt on the top of the box and grinning at Patrick wickedly. Patrick swallowed, wincing at the loudness of her voice in such close proximity. 

“ _ What? _ ” David stuck his head back into sight, squinting, then groaned when he spotted Patrick still hovering in the doorway. “Ugh, Stevie! Tip the man and stop being annoying.” 

“Where’s the fun in that,” the woman- Stevie, apparently- intoned, taking the pizza from Patrick and glancing at his name tag as she handed him a wad of cash. Her eyes widened, an expression Patrick didn’t understand lighting up her features. “Thanks for this, Patrick,” She said his name almost suggestively, the “k” sound at the end sharp as a tack. “Have a  _ great  _ night!”

She closed the door between them, and too late, Patrick remembered his note at the bottom of the receipt. He could picture David and Stevie laughing together, lounging in bed, crumpling the receipt up and tossing it away before digging into the pizza. It was an image that made his stomach hurt. 

It was an image that cropped up in his mind, unbidden, several times over the next few weeks. David hadn’t called for another order, and Patrick tried to tell himself it was because the cooking classes were working out. But another persistent, annoying voice in Patrick’s head told him that David had run off into the sunset with Stevie and he’d never see him again-

“Hi, it’s me. David. I need pizza ASAP.” Patrick had answered the phone without checking the caller ID, and almost dropped it out of shock when he heard David’s voice, sounding distressed, at the other end. 

_ Garlic knots,  _ Patrick scribbled on the order pad, biting back a grin. “Sure, David. What can I get you?”

* * *

Patrick bounced on the balls of his feet after he knocked on the door, trying to tamp down his nerves and excitement about seeing David again. 

“One second!” David’s voice called from inside, muffled by the door. 

The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing a frazzled-looking David, a faint haze of smoke, and the acrid scent of something burning. 

Patrick felt himself biting back a smile as he slid the boxes out of the insulated bag. “Cooking classes going well, David?” he asked lightly. 

David narrowed his eyes at him, snatching the receipt from the top of the box and signing it with his loopy handwriting. “It’s a work in progress,” he said loftily. 

“Mmm, I see,” Patrick murmured. “Hey, by the way. I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t order garlic knots like you usually do.” 

David’s face fell, and he groaned. “I was distracted, trying to wave smoke out the window so the fire alarm wouldn’t go off.” 

“Yeah, well. I figured it was an oversight on your part, so…” Patrick reached into the bag, pulling a box of knots out.

“Oh,” David’s expression was softer than Patrick had ever seen, a pleased-looking flush on his cheekbones. “Well thank you. That’s very kind.” 

Patrick shrugged, tucking his now-empty delivery bag under his arm and shoving his hands into his pockets. “It was nothing.” 

“Well I appreciate it. And...it’s, um. Really nice to see you again, Patrick,” David murmured softly. Patrick’s mouth went dry as David held his gaze, and he knew he should do something- say something- finally make his move. But the silence stretched, the moment becoming awkward, and Patrick just shyly scrubbed one hand through his hair and nodded. 

“You too, David.” 

Patrick mentally kicked himself all the way back to the restaurant, and he spent the rest of his shift coming up with lamer and lamer excuses to go back to David’s apartment. Before tonight, he hadn’t seen David in three weeks. He wasn’t sure when he’d see him again. No matter how flimsy the excuse, Patrick told himself, he’d stop back by David’s apartment before heading home for the night.

* * *

He should have thought of a better excuse. 

David’s mouth was curled up into a knowing smile as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, watching Patrick as he stuttered through his explanation for showing up, unannounced and uninvited. 

“I forgot to bring you napkins when I dropped your order off earlier, so... I brought you some on my way home,” Patrick said lamely, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. 

“Oh,” David said softly, nodding as he took the stack of napkins from Patrick. “Well. I’m absolutely bereft of paper goods at the moment so this is very much appreciated.” 

Patrick stuck his now-empty hands deep into his pockets, feeling awkward. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He wanted to be cool and suave and-

“Do you want to come in for a few? There’s still some pizza and I just opened a bottle of wine…” David trailed off, waving a hand vaguely behind him, towards the interior of the apartment. Patrick had never breached the threshold, per the unspoken code of conduct of delivery people everywhere. 

He exhaled shakily, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and nodded. “Sure. Yeah.” 

David’s smile blossomed as he stepped back to let Patrick step inside. 

The interior of David’s apartment was much like David himself; sharp angles softened by cozy-looking textiles. It was outfitted with rich, dark wood and leather,contrasting with neutral-toned luxurious rugs and soft knitted throws. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” David gestured to the overstuffed leather couch in the living area as he breezed into the open-plan kitchen. “I’m just going to grab the wine.” 

Patrick sank into the couch, rubbing his hands over the buttery leather. He was pretty sure a couch this nice had to cost more than his car. 

“Red or white?” David called over his shoulder, his hand hovering over wine glasses in the cabinet. 

Patrick shrugged. “Whatever you have open is fine. I’m not picky.” 

David smirked, pulling two bulb-shaped glasses down. “Red it is, then.” 

“So,” David said archly a few minutes later, settling himself into the corner of the couch, back against the arm and facing Patrick. “When are you going to tell me why you’re really here?” He gazed at Patrick over the rim of the wineglass as he sipped, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop. 

Patrick felt his face burn, his mouth gaping open like a fish. “I- the napkins. I forgot to bring you napkins earlier. With your delivery.” Patrick knew it was a poor excuse, and knew from the look David was giving him that he could see right through it. 

“Mmkay,” David murmured wryly. “Not that I want to cast any doubt on your commitment to providing excellent customer service, but there was _definitely_ a stack of napkins on top of the box when you dropped it off.” 

Patrick winced, knowing he’d made a complete idiot of himself. Setting his wineglass on the coffee table, he ran a hand through his hair and started to pull himself out of the deep-seated couch. “Right. I’m sorry, David, this is- this is really embarrassing and not at all how I wanted this to go so I’m just gonna-”

He stood, wanting to remove himself from the situation as quickly as possible, but suddenly David was scrambling toward him, gently placing a hand on his forearm and pulling him back down. 

“Wait, Patrick, don’t- I was just teasing you but I think,” David’s face was flushed now, too, his dark eyes wide and sincere. “It was very sweet of you to pretend you needed to bring me napkins in order to see me again,” he said quietly. “And also, I may have kept ordering pizza from you for the same reason even though Antonio’s Cucina is two blocks away and _much_ higher quality.” 

A sudden, relieved laugh punched its way out of Patrick. “ _ What?  _ Why?” 

David shrugged, turning his gaze away from Patrick as he swirled his wine in its glass distractedly. “You just...seemed so  _ nice _ , right away. You asked me if I was okay. And it had been a long time since anyone had bothered asking me that. And I wanted to see you, but didn’t know what to say, so…” David trailed off, shrugging again. 

While Patrick was warmed by the idea of David repeatedly ordering pizza he apparently didn’t even like in order to see him again, one thing was niggling in the back of his mind. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Patrick had no intention of bringing it up, not really; asking about it just made him look desperate, at this point, but surely David could have reached out when Patrick was blatantly giving him signals that he was interested. 

“What?” David’s expression was politely puzzled. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Patrick enunciated more clearly, looking down at his own wine glass, clocking the increasingly befuddled expression on David’s face from the corner of his eye. 

“I- the cooking classes? I told you I probably wouldn’t be ordering as often, and I really did start cooking more, and I was trying to save money-“

“No, David,” Patrick rubbed one hand over his face, frustrated. “I don’t mean the restaurant- I mean  _ me.  _ Was a note saying “call me” and my phone number not a clear enough sign?” 

“What note? What the hell are you talking about?” 

“The last time I delivered to you, I left my number at the bottom of my receipt asking you to call me,” Patrick said quietly, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him. “When I didn’t hear from you, and when I saw you had...Um. A guest. I figured that meant you weren’t interested.”

David gaped at him. “Last time you delivered to me, my best friend Stevie- my  _ guest-  _ and I spent the evening getting high and stuffing our faces because she’d just broken up with her scaggy motel reviewer boyfriend. The receipt  _ probably _ got thrown away. Along with our dignity.” 

“Your- so that Stevie woman isn’t... you guys didn’t-?” Patrick made a vaguely obscene gesture. 

David interrupted his gesturing and clumsy line of questioning with a full body shudder. “ _ God  _ no. I mean we did, once upon a time, but that was several years and half a dozen more regrettable decisions ago.” 

“I see.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Patrick’s heart was thundering in his chest as David looked at him, the smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. He wanted to know what that smile- somehow shy and self-assured all at the same time- felt like pressed against his own hungry lips. There was a cosmic shift, something tangible in the very air that changed as they gazed at each other. Without knowing who moved first, they were both leaning in, and  Patrick was suddenly aware of every single sensation, every nerve ending in his body, and it was both overwhelming and somehow also not enough. 

He felt David’s rings pressed coolly against the flushed skin of his jaw. He felt the scrape of his stubble, could taste the richness of the wine on his tongue. He felt more than heard the low groan that was pulled from his own chest, and steadied himself with a deep breath as David pulled away, laughing softly. 

“Was that— are you good?” 

Patrick allowed himself to laugh a bit, too, and took the opportunity to rub a shaking hand over his face, his fingers lightly tracing his kiss-swollen lips. “I’m good, David. Better than good, even.” 

David preened a bit under the praise, shrugging in a way that revealed he knew just  _ how _ good Patrick meant. He leaned in to kiss Patrick again, earning another frenzied groan as he moved to straddle Patrick’s lap. 

“So,” he murmured breathily as Patrick ghosted his lips down his throat, “Does making out with the pizza guy mean I get the employee discount?” 

Patrick chuckled against David’s skin, nipping his earlobe gently. “No, David. I think we’ll be ordering from Antonio’s Cucina from now on.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Title snagged from the pizza joint in Shameless. 
> 
> Stay safe, wash your hands, wear a mask and get vaccinated when you can. Xo.


End file.
